Messiah

by J. E. Taylor

  Table of Contents

  Messiah

  Messiah | by | J.E. Taylor

  MESSIAH

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  About J.E. Taylor

  Messiah© February 2014 J.E. Taylor

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Previously titled: Dome Warriors

  For additional information contact:

  www.JETaylor75.com

  Cover Art by Cora Graphics

  www.coragraphics.it

  Stock Photo from Artem Furman/Shutterstock.com

  Edited by: The Atwater Group

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Messiah

  by

  J.E. Taylor

  MESSIAH

  An Ancient Prophecy.

  A forbidden love.

  Now, there’s nowhere to run.

  André's abilities have always marked him as special, but fulfilling an ancient prophecy is enough to have him ostracized into the cosmos. Love was his motivation for preventing his parent's execution, now in Earth's refuge, love is his undoing again.

  The Commander's daughter is off limits, but this kind of love is destiny, forcing Katrina and her alien paramour to elope.

  Word of André's survival reaches his home planet when his image is broadcast across the universe. This time, his very existence may well trigger the destruction of a planet, his haven, Earth.

  Dedication

  This is for my mom, who has been waiting patiently for me to get this particular book published.

  I hope you love the final version as much as that first rough draft!

  Chapter 1

  May 2255

  God, this is mass suicide.

  The auditorium filled with Commander Robbins’s special task force, an elite team built for the sole purpose of keeping humanity from extinction.

  He glanced to his side, taking a deep breath and meeting his son’s somber gaze.

  This is not your fault.

  His son scoffed in response and looked away.

  Returning his attention to the auditorium, Commander Robbins scanned the murmuring crowd, and steeled his emotions, locking them behind a barrier, hiding the roar of his heart and the nerves causing his mouth to lay as dry and wasted as the world outside the domes.

  Chapter 2

  April 2233

  First Colonel Matthew Robbins picked up the phone in his office.

  “We still haven’t received a response from the ship, sir.”

  He paused and looked out the window toward the bright sky. The president’s orders were clear: seek and destroy unless contact could be made. The precarious existence of the human race couldn’t tolerate another unknown, and with each and every attempt at communication falling on deaf ears, the government wasn’t taking a risk.

  Not with the first alien contact in history.

  He was expected to carry out the order alone. “Get my ship ready,” he said and hung up the phone. The soldier in him was thrilled to take another space jaunt, but he also tasted the metal tinge of fear.

  The first leg of the trip was uneventful. Bursting through the Earth’s atmosphere into space always filled him with a sense of awe, but this time, it was short-lived. His ship’s tracking mechanism homed in on the alien craft, calculating time and distance and the trajectory that would put his spacecraft in the path of the unknown.

  Hours passed and the small dot in the window grew as he drew closer. Sweat pooled in Matthew’s armpits and at the small of his back. His tongue scraped the roof of his mouth like a rough patch of sandpaper and he swallowed trying to alleviate the dryness.

  Shaking his head, he admonished himself. I’m a colonel in the United States Armed Forces for God’s sake! Matthew shoved the fear into a small lead ball that found its way to the pit of his stomach.

  He focused on the craft, studying the data the computers were spewing. There seemed to be no thrusters navigating the sphere. As he drew closer, the readouts showed no discernible windows and communication was still non-existent. He stared at the small craft, and wondered again if there really was life inside it, especially since it wasn’t big enough to carry more than a couple human beings at best. He checked the statistics again and they confirmed a life-form—or at least an energy source—onboard. One that had diminished since they first discovered the craft.

  Circling the small sphere, he studied it, the smooth surface reflecting the shining light. Using the extension crane, he plucked the ball out of space and pulled it into the loading bay of his spacecraft, watching the controls. Once the panel indicated his cargo was secured, he sealed the outer doors and started pressurization. When the oxygen display returned to an acceptable level, he punched in coordinates and switched the ship on autopilot, heading home.

  Matthew closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming the clamor in his chest before stepping through the doors and into the loading bay. Cool steam, like an open batch of dry ice, drifted off the ship. He circled it, sliding his fingers along the smooth, unbroken surface. It was cold, cold enough to numb his digits, and he pulled his hand away, rubbing his fingers to his palm to get the feeling back.

  “Hello?” he called, still circling.

  No answer.

  He put his hands on his hips and looked down. There, barely visible in the satin skin, was a break. Matthew crossed to the crane controls and slowly rolled the sphere. When the panel the size of a small hatchway was completely exposed, Matthew returned to the sphere, studying the hatch. He rubbed his hands together and felt the door, looking for a release, a button, a way in.

  The hatch door didn’t contain a release valve, so he moved his search to the outer rims and halfway down the frame of the door, he felt the skin of the ball compress and he pushed on the spot. The hatch popped open.

  Noxious fumes escaped from the craft and Matthew coughed, covering his mouth and shooting back a few steps. The heart of a sewage plant would have smelled better. After a few shallow breaths, he approached the dark opening. Matthew pulled a light stick from his pocket, snapped it on and stepped inside the craft.

  He glanced around, confused. The inside of the craft was cold like the inside of a refrigerator and seamlessly round as the outside. The sphere had no control panels or any form of mechanical means to contact the outside world and it was f
ilthy. Layers of waste, blackened by time, lined the surface and mounded in the center of the room. Empty cartons of what looked like rations poked out haphazardly from the mess, along with something akin to plastic water bottles, all empty and decayed. His hands shot over his mouth again as the stagnant air full of methane assaulted his nostrils, making his eyes water and his stomach roll.

  He scanned the room again and his gaze landed on the mound in the center of the sphere. The temperature skyrocketed and the widest, bluest eyes he had ever seen peered out of the filth. Eyes attached to a smear-covered body equivalent to that of a ten-year-old boy.

  Shit, how’d I miss you? He almost laughed at the sudden thought. The boy uncurled and crouched in the center of the sphere; his eyes carried caution layered with fright. His gaze bounced between Matthew’s face and his uniform, specifically the United States Armed Forces insignia on his right breast pocket.

  “Hello,” Matthew said after a moment, unsure of anything else to say.

  The boy remained squatted. His eyes narrowed in an expression of distrust and he brushed his stringy bangs out of the way.

  “Can you understand me?” Matthew asked.

  The boy nodded slowly. He looked at Matthew’s uniform, intently singling out the flag on the right breast pocket. A crease appeared between his eyes.

  Matthew smiled. A fraction of relief layered under his skin. At least the lines of communication are open. “I won’t hurt you,” he said, trying not to gag at the smell seeping into his clothing. He put his open palms in front of him to show the boy he had nothing in his hands but the light stick clutched between his thumb and forefinger.

  The boy nodded. “I know,” he said in a weak, scratchy voice.

  Another notch of ease swept through Matthew. The kid understood English. “What’s your name?” he asked and stepped toward the boy. A jolt from an electrical force field zapped him and he recoiled, dropping the light stick in the slime at his feet. “Jesus!”

  The boy’s eyes widened.

  Matthew rubbed the back of his hand, wincing at the reddened skin. He surveyed the room again, slower this time, looking for the controls to the force field surrounding the boy. When his visual search came up empty, he focused back on the child. “How old are you?”

  A shrug. “I don’t know.”

  Puzzled, he glanced at his singed hand and back. “How long have you been in space?”

  Another half shrug and the boy’s eyes turned toward one of the sphere walls. He followed his gaze and stared at the counting sticks drawn in the muck, hundreds of them. He shifted his eyes back to the boy, watching his lips silently count and then press together in frustration, trembling. “A long time, almost too long.”

  Silence filled the small space and Matthew nodded. The state of the capsule was evidence of an extended period of time, perhaps years. “Do you know how to turn the force field off?”

  The crease between his eyes became more prominent.

  “The controls, the switch, you know—a button?”

  The boy shook his head, still wearing a perplexed expression, like Matthew was one shy of a deck of cards. “There isn’t a button.”

  Shit. How do I get him out of here?

  A slight laugh filtered through the sphere. “The force field isn’t created by this thing.” He waved a skeletal hand at his surroundings and the effort seemed to suck a fraction of life from his eyes.

  Shock skittered across Matthew’s skin, pooling at the base of his spine and morphing into a slight chill. The only other explanation, one that defied logic, popped out of his mouth. “Did you do that?”

  The boy nodded and Matthew inched a step back toward the opening, the president’s directive echoing in his mind. Seek and destroy. Matthew’s mind reeled, taking in the now shaking form of the filthy boy; his eyes widened as if he was reading Matthew’s thoughts. Matthew blinked, swallowed and took a shallow breath.

  If this truly was a child, he couldn’t kill him, no matter where he came from. His duty was to serve and protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. “Do you remember how old you were when you were put in here?”

  A shadow passed over the boy’s face and he nodded. “Six.”

  Matthew did some rough calculations and came to the conclusion that the kid had to be at least eight, maybe older, based on the slim carvings counting the passage of time, and that cinched his decision: dangerous or not, he couldn’t destroy this child.

  “Do you know where you are?” Matthew asked.

  The boy’s expression changed to guarded confusion, and an eyebrow rose, shifting the layer of muck on his face. He glanced around the windowless craft, shaking his head.

  “You are in the Sol System. What we on Earth call the Milky Way. Your...” He paused, looked around and then returned his gaze to the boy. “Your ship is in the loading bay of my star cruiser.”

  “Earth?”

  “Yes, Earth.” Matthew crouched down so he was at eye level with the boy. “Where are you from?”

  The boy just stared at him.

  “Do you know where you’re from?”

  He nodded, still wary, his eyes bouncing between Matthew and the insignia on his shirt and beyond at the opening.

  “Do you want to get out of here?” Matthew asked, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to the open hatch. He wanted out of the vile sphere. He wanted to scrub the scum off both the boy and himself, to feel clean again and not have the stink permeating in his nose.

  The boy’s eyes shot to his face and widened. His teeth slid on his lower lip and for the first time since he entered the sphere, he saw a light in his eyes. Hope and fear mixed in his expression and he nodded.

  “What’s your name?” the boy croaked.

  Matthew stood. “Colonel Matthew Robbins. What’s yours?”

  “André,” the boy replied and the slight electrical crackle filling the sphere suddenly cut off. He pushed himself off the ground but his legs wobbled beneath him and he sat down hard on the floor.

  Matthew’s heart went out to the kid. He certainly showed signs of bravery and resourcefulness, surviving in a windowless pod for so long. But he wondered if André would trust him enough to help. “Will you let me help?”

  The conflict was clear in the boy’s eyes: the want, the hope, the fear all screaming from the blue depths as he finally met Matthew’s gaze and nodded. Matthew leaned down and scooped up the boy and a measure of alarm shot through him. The kid weighed less than fifty pounds. Much less. God, how did he ever survive out here?

  Matthew offered a smile, sweeping the concern from his face, and focused on getting out of the pod. He carried André into the decontamination room and set him down, closing the doors before hitting the button. Warm soapy water sprayed from all sides, blasting years of filth from the boy’s skin and soaking Matthew’s clothes. He helped André to his feet, steadying him, watching his eyes close and his head tilt into the warm stream.

  After several wash and rinse cycles, including using the exfoliating system, André stood clean, his skin the color of a deep Texan tan, his hair reminding Matthew of raw sienna. With a physique identical to that of a ten-year-old boy, Matthew guessed he could easily pass as a human child and for the first time since he stepped into the pod, he had an idea of how to protect this kid, but he needed agreement from his superiors and that would be sticky.

  André flashed a line of straight shiny white teeth in his direction and without the layers of dirt, his eyes shone bright azure, bordering on metallic. They held gratitude. Gratitude so deep that Matthew cleared the lump from his throat and flipped the drying jets on, closing his eyes against the powerful blast of air.

  Rummaging through the cabinet, Matthew grabbed a shirt and handed it to André. The material covered his emaciated body almost to his bony knees. Refreshed and clean, Matthew led him into the cockpit, pointing to the co-pilot seat and nodding as André slid onto the soft cushion.

  Staring out the window with his hands on the controls, Matthew’s
mind raced. All the B-rated horror movies about aliens filtered through his head and he shot a glance at the boy.

  André stared at him, his eyes wide and a grin playing on his lips. “You have moving pictures too?”

  Matthew’s gaze snapped to his passenger. You can read minds?

  “Yeah, can’t everyone?” André glanced back at him like he had two heads and a forked tongue.

  Matthew shook his head. First the force fields, now mind reading. What else can this kid do?

  “A lot of things. That’s why I was exiled,” André answered.

  “Exiled?” What the hell have I gotten myself into? He turned toward the loading bay, wondering about the lack of any instruments in the alien ship.

  “It’s not a ship. It’s a death capsule.”

  Matthew’s eyes shot to André’s. Revulsion snaked across his skin and he blinked, his mouth dropping open to speak but no words formed. He looked back at the loading bay doors and collected his flying thoughts. “Were you alone?”

  “Yes.” He looked at his hands fidgeting in his lap.

  Alone. Years in a death capsule—alone. Matthew couldn’t fathom why anyone would do that to a child. “Why in God’s name would anyone exile a six-year-old?”

  “My father told me once that I was gifted.” His voice cracked with emotion and he stopped talking, his eyes welling up with tears.

  Matthew recoiled, his eyes widening as thick drops of blood flowed from the corner of André’s eyes. “Jesus! Are you okay?” Matthew reached for him but André put his hand up, stopping Matthew.

  He swiped his hand over his eyes. “I’m just crying,” he said.

  “Your eyes bleed when you cry?” Matthew grabbed some tissue and handed the wad to André, still skeptical even though he nodded. Maybe the kid just needed hydration. Matthew turned, pressing a few buttons on the side panel. A moment later, a tall bottle of cool water popped into the order tray. He unscrewed the top and handed the drink to André. “Maybe this will help.”